


I’ve Grown Tired Of This Body

by TheLovelyOrchid



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur I guess, Arthur is, Gaius is the best dad, Gen, Hugs, Lance is the best bro, Magic Revealed, Merlin is trying her best and we love her, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, loves Merlin even if he doesn’t realize the dummy, we love him too, we love them all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-17 14:44:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16518464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLovelyOrchid/pseuds/TheLovelyOrchid
Summary: “Sometimes, when she was feeling very brave, she wore the baggiest clothing out of her very few, and used her new magic to curve her sharp edges and widen her hips and soften her face and even, if she was very careful about it, give herself small breasts.”





	I’ve Grown Tired Of This Body

**Author's Note:**

> I thought this kind of sucked when I first wrote it but then I came back to it and read it and it’s actually not terrible so I figure I’d post it. Here you go. 
> 
> Also title’s from the song Body by Mother Mother because who can come up with titles these days

Merlin always knew there was something different about... him. At first, he thought everyone felt that way, that this was one of those things about him that was meant to be normal. But when Merlin mentioned it to Will, the boy seemed confused. Then Merlin thought it had to do with magic. There wasn’t really anyone to tell him it hadn’t, and so for so long, he thought that was normal for magic users. To feel uncomfortable in your own skin. To feel like there were things about your body that weren’t, that shouldn’t be, yours.

 

So for a long, long time, Merlin got used to being uncomfortable. He got used to hunching in on himself, to never feeling confident, to never quite fitting together right. He got used to placing the blame on his magic and leaving it at that. But then he left Ealdor. Left for Camelot and Gaius and his mother’s peace of mind.

 

It was nice with Gaius. He knew so much more about magic than anyone in his village ever had, and he looked after Merlin much like Merlin thought a father might. So Merlin, now able to speak freely of magic to someone who could understand, mentioned the difference. But he was met with the same confusion he’d received the day he told Will. Gaius didn’t know either. Gaius, who had been a sorcerer before Uther’s purge on magic and who knew more about magic than Merlin thought he could ever hope to know, didn’t understand this feeling that Merlin had had for as long as he could remember.

 

That night, Merlin lay awake in his bed thinking what, if not magic, could possibly be to blame for this feeling. He stayed awake well into the morning, and Arthur teased him for his heightened clumsiness the rest of the day.

 

After that, it got so much harder to ignore. Merlin found himself paying so much more attention to things he used to do without a second thought. Now every time he folded into himself or couldn’t bring himself to feel confident serving Arthur in a room full of nobleman or felt maybe as though he might tear off his own skin, his mind wouldn’t let him brush it off or push it away. It stuck with him well into the night to echo around his skull and scare sleep away.

 

Then one day, a few weeks after Merlin’s insomnia began, as he trudged through cleaning Arthur’s room after sleeping so little the night before and let these wordless thoughts bounce around his mind a bit quieter than they did in the night, Arthur momentarily stopped him in his chores.

 

“Merlin... are you crying?”

 

Merlin glanced at Arthur’s face, full of confusion and obvious discomfort, and reached up to touch his face. His hand came back wet.

 

Still glancing curiously at his hand, Merlin answered, “Yes?”

 

“Is there any particular _reason_  you’re crying?” Arthur asked, sarcasm masking the slightest amount of concern.

 

Merlin shrugged, turning back to his chores. “I didn’t sleep well last night. It may have something to do with that.”

 

“You’re such a _girl_ , Merlin,” Arthur said, brushing off the matter at Merlin’s explanation and returning to his work.

 

Merlin wasn’t sure why that bothered him, but he let it go in favor of finishing his remaining tasks as quickly as possible.

 

About a week later, when Merlin spilled one of Gaius’ draughts all over his tunic on one of his rare days off (he didn’t know why Arthur granted him it, but he was thankful for it nonetheless) and was walking around in just his trousers while he put off having to clean it, he found himself staring into the small mirror on his wardrobe. He’d never really looked at himself before, not since he’d gotten to Camelot and certainly not when he was living in Ealdor.

 

Gaius walked in with his now clean shirt (bless him) and snapped Merlin out of it. Later that night when he couldn’t sleep yet again, he found himself flipping through his book of magic for something. He wasn’t entirely sure what he intended to find until he did. When he stumbled across it, his eyelids drooped as his cotton filled mind slowly processed the words. A smile spread across cheek bones highlighted by the moon, and things finally made a bit more sense. At least, what Merlin actually wanted was starting to.

 

But it could wait until the morning, Merlin decided. Because for once, _for once_ , she found she could fall asleep.

 

...

 

It was tricky, keeping two such big secrets. But Merlin managed.

 

She knew Gaius hated when she used magic unless absolutely necessary, but then, this did seem so very necessary to Merlin.

 

She started the morning after she found the spell, changing her body into something that made her feel more like she could hold her head up high. Like there was nothing to hunch over and hide. Not nearly as many things out of place.

 

It was difficult to figure out, at first, like most spells, but infinitely more frustrating in ways that others were not. But she learned quickly, though it didn’t feel nearly quick enough.

 

On a night when Gaius was out treating sickness in the lower towns and her chores as Arthur’s servant were small enough in amount for her to get home before she was completely wiped out, she spent the evening under the spell, walking around and doing normal tasks but smiling all the while.

 

Sometimes, when she was feeling very brave, she wore the baggiest clothing out of her very few, and used her new magic to curve her sharp edges and widen her hips and soften her face and even, if she was very careful about it, give herself small breasts, and she would go about for the day like that.

 

The first to find out was Lancelot. She hadn’t told him, she couldn’t imagine telling anyone, but somehow he just knew. And of course he did. It was such a Lancelot thing, to know things about Merlin she hardly knew herself.

 

He asked her about it, and she told him what she could in the best way she could help him understand. He smiled and told her she would always be a friend. In the earlier days of her outings as herself, when sometimes the fear of being caught far outweighed the discomfort of feeling wrong, Lancelot always reminded her that she was beautiful. Even on the days when she didn’t necessarily need it but still let the words sit in the back of her mind for the rest of the day to remind her.

 

She hadn’t told Gwen yet, not directly, but Gwen didn’t bat an eye when she came to Gaius’ chambers one night looking for the court physician, only to find Merlin failing miserably at applying makeup. She froze only for a moment at seeing Merlin sitting on the floor, surrounded by the mess she’d made, before coming straight to her and plopping down beside her to fix, what she called, an “atrocity.”

 

She stayed late in Merlin chambers that night, as Gaius wouldn’t be returning until the following afternoon (Merlin had made certain of that) and chattered excitedly about finally being able to have a girls night of sorts (not that Merlin was girl, certainly not, she’d babbled nervously. Merlin smiled tightly at that and produced a laugh that sounded harsh even to her ears. Gwen didn’t seem to notice).

 

Arthur said something about it, once. That something seemed strange about her on the first day she’d decided to face the world, really and truly her for what felt like the first time. Maybe because it was. She dodged it, though, by saying one of the knights might have whacked him upside the head one too many times. Arthur became defensive, and their usual bickering ensued, difference forgotten.

 

She was as careful as she could possibly be about it. Lancelot had already proven himself capable of keeping her secrets in a kingdom like Camelot, and she knew that if Gwen were to ever really find out, she’d never tell if it meant compromising Merlin’s safety, but she felt it best to not test her theory. If Merlin was ever found out, the king could have his choice of reasons to send her to her death.

 

It was on a hunting trip, because wasn’t it always, that she found being careful wasn’t always enough.

 

Arthur took Merlin and his most trusted knights on one of his stupid hunting trips, which Merlin hated and was sure to remind her master of such, and there were bandits. Because there were always bandits. And because Merlin couldn’t catch a break, her attempts to help the dollopheaded prince with said bandits did not go unnoticed as it usually did.

 

When the battle was over and all the bandits laid unconscious or dead or otherwise scurried away, Merlin looked up from where she’d subtly dropped a tree branch (as was her usual method of magical attack) onto an assailant of the prince to find all eyes on her.

 

Said eyes contained many varying emotions, most a mix between confusion, shock, and perhaps a bit of fear, besides Lancelot, who looked more worried than Merlin herself felt in those deceivingly calm moments before the storm broke. Arthur looked furious.

 

The silence stretched on for what seemed to be forever until Arthur broke it.

 

“Anything you’d care to tell me, Merlin?” He said, tone calm in the way it could only be when Arthur felt really and truly murderous.

 

Merlin’s smile wobbled dangerously as she tried to spread it across her now pale cheeks, laughing with a nervousness that was so nearly fear. “I’ve got magic?”

 

“You’re a sorcerer!” Arthur screamed with a ferocity that wrapped around her heart and squeezed. “A sorcerer! At the heart of Camelot! For _years_!”

 

“Yes, well, I-I mean technically-“ she tried to get the words out around a tongue that suddenly felt too big for her mouth.

 

“Shut up, Merlin! Just-“ Arthur inhaled sharply and placed his hands to his forehead. “Shut up.”

 

He closed his eyes for a moment, then reopened them and drew his sword.

 

“On your knees, _sorcerer_ ,” he spat at her, no longer using her name as he stepped forward.

 

She fell, her legs too shaky to hold her any longer anyway, and began pleading quietly, “Arthur-“

 

“Shut up,” Arthur replied coolly, pointing the sword towards her.

 

“Princess-“ Gwaine began, being cut off by Lancelot as he stepped forward.

 

“Arthur, think about this,” Lancelot said, stepping between them and slightly obscuring Merlin’s view of Arthur. “This is _Merlin_. She’d never do anything to harm you or Camelot. Surely, you must know that Arthur.”

 

Merlin’s heart sank. She saw confusion briefly flit across Arthur’s face before the anger returned. Lancelot had said-

 

“She?” He turned back to Merlin. “You’re a woman?”

 

“Sire, I apologize. It was a slip of the tongue,” Lancelot rushed to fix his mistake, but it was too late.

 

“How many secrets have you been hiding from me, _Mer_ lin?!” He said her name again, in that way that was so familiar but different. Like it no longer belonged to a friend but to an enemy.

 

“Arthur, I-“

 

“Shut up, witch.”

 

“I’m not a witch, I-I’m, well, a warlock but the female version of warlock,” Merlin babbled nervously as fear bubbled up her throat. “Which- which I guess is still a witch now that I think about it but-“

 

“What’s the difference?” Arthur asked suddenly.

 

“What?” She asked, a bit confused.

 

“You specified as if they were not the same. What is the difference?” Arthur repeated, and it was then she understood. He wanted a reason. A reason to believe his friend, she might even venture to say his _best_ friend, did not truly possess an evil he’d been taught could only cause death and destruction. A reason for it not to mean what he thought it surely had to. Merlin hoped the one she had would be good enough.

 

“A sorcerer or sorceress is someone who must learn magic to wield it. A warlock or witch is someone who was born with magic. I-I’m a witch, Arthur. I had no more choice in having magic than to be born in an accursed male’s body. Or more than you did to be born a prince.” Merlin said as calmly as she could. Might as well address both issues at once. “I would never use it to harm you or Camelot, Arthur.”

 

“How do I know that?” Arthur asked quietly, hands still making a death grip on the hilt of his sword. “I don’t even know you, Merlin.”

 

“Of course you do, Arthur,” Merlin chanced a small smile. “You may not have known about my magic or my sex, but you know _me_ , Arthur. I’ve always been me.”

 

“Why would you not tell me? After all this time?”

 

“Oh, Arthur,” Merlin felt a stinging at the back of her eyes and her voice went all wobbly again. “I could never make you choose between me and what you thought was right for Camelot. I could never do that to you.”

 

“And the girl thing?”

 

Merlin chuckled as a tear landed on her smile. “Well, that was just scary.”

 

Arthur scoffed. “For gods’ sake, Merlin.” He sheathed his sword. “Get up.”

 

He held out a hand, and she took it.

 

As soon as Arthur had hauled her to her feet, he was wrapping her in an embrace. It was over as suddenly as it had begun, and Arthur held her away, hands on her shoulders.

 

He looked Merlin over for a moment before saying, “I knew you looked different. How did you do that?”

 

Merlin laughed, wiping tears from her face. “It’s to do with magic.”

 

Arthur rolled his eyes, letting her go. “Of course it is.”

 

Merlin scoffed. “What? Did you think Gaius whipped me up some potion that non-magically changed my bloody anatomy?”

 

“Shut up, _Mer_ lin.” Arthur turned and gestured for everyone to make their way back to where they’d left the horses. The knights immediately moved from where they’d been standing, awkwardly and nervously watching the exchange between the prince and Merlin.

 

Gwaine ran over to her and roughly swung his arm over her shoulder. “So _that’s_ why you could never drink more than a cup down at the tavern.”

 

Merlin’s face burned. “That is not-“

 

“I think that has less to do with Merlin being a girl, and more to do with Merlin being a sissy,” Arthur commented without turning back.

 

Merlin very nearly squawked, glancing back for help to find Percival giving her a smile. His way of showing his support. Leon nudged her shoulder and nodded when he had her attention, looking uncomfortable but not hateful. He had no idea what was going on, but she knew he was trying. Elyan walked by her side the entire time, happily adding comments, mostly at Merlin’s expense, and grinning at her when she looked.

 

Things were as they always should have been.

 

...

 

The next day when she went to wake Arthur and bring him his breakfast, she found him sitting at his table, already dressed and wide awake. He looked very serious.

 

She felt her stomach drop, a million possibilities racing through her mind. A large amount of them contained her death.

 

“Merlin.” Her heart jumped. “I’m firing you.”

 

Not what she’d been expecting, and definitely less terrifying.

 

All vital organs back in their proper places, she said, rather eloquently, “What?”

 

Arthur sighed. “I cannot have a _girl_ for a servant. Do you know what people would say?”

 

“Who cares what people say?” Merlin asked indignantly. “We both know I don’t.”

 

“Yes, well I _do_ , so I’m sorry, but you’re fired.”

 

“What? Arthur-“

 

“No, Merlin-“

 

“Arthur, shut up.”

 

“You can’t tell me to shut up, _Mer_ lin. I’m the _prince_.”

 

“Yes, but right now you’re also a complete _ass_ ,” Merlin said heatedly. “If I’m not your maidservant, then how am I meant to protect from all of the dangerous, and frankly quite stupid, situations you always manage to get yourself into?”

 

Arthur looked affronted. “Since when have I ever needed you to defend me from anything, Merlin?”

 

“Do you really think yesterday was the only time I’d ever saved you using my magic?” Merlin deadpanned.

 

Arthur stuttered disbelievingly. “ _Mer_ lin!”

 

She folded her arms across her chest. “You can’t fire me. I won’t leave.”

 

“I’ll call the guards.”

 

“What, you can’t drag me out yourself?”

 

“Merlin,” Arthur said in warning.

 

“Arthur,” Merlin replied defiantly.

 

They stared at each other for a few minutes before Arthur groaned loudly in exasperation, slumping onto his table in a way that was certainly not very royal.

 

“Fine, whatever. You’re not fired. I didn’t want to have George back anyway.”

 

“Thank you.” Merlin smiled. “I’ll see you at training, Sire.”

 

...

 

When Merlin returned home that night, she found Gaius organizing ingredients she’d gathered earlier that day.

 

“Hello, Merlin. How were your chores today?” Gaius asked, opening a container to store herbs.

 

“Arthur knows.”

 

Gaius nearly shattered the container.

 

“What?” He whipped around to look at Merlin with an intensity she’d never seen in him before. “About your magic?”

 

Merlin nodded, and Gaius rushed over to her and grabbed both of her arms.

 

“How many times have I warned you to be careful, Merlin? How many times!” Gaius shouted, fear and panic consuming his voice.

 

“It’s alright,” Merlin said calmly, taking Gaius’ hands from her arms to hold his wrists in her hands. “It was yesterday. He was angry at first, but I think he’s okay now.”

 

Gaius closed his eyes and inhaled sharply, letting it out slowly. “You are going to be the death of me, my boy.”

 

Merlin felt a pang in her chest, and she knew she needed to tell him the rest. “There was more, though, that Arthur found out. Besides my magic.”

 

Gaius chuckled and opened his eyes, relief seeming to flow through his very veins. “You’ve nothing else to hide, Merlin.”

 

“I do, Gaius,” Merlin said shakily. “Only I’ve hidden it from you too.”

 

The fear returned to the old man’s expression, showing itself in every line of his face, though not nearly as harsh as before.

 

Merlin released her father’s arms. “Hold on a moment,” she said, rushing into her room to grab her spellbook. “I’ll show you.”

 

She took the spellbook and opened it to the page she’d bookmarked, though she’d memorized its contents long ago. She carried it to the table, setting it down for Gaius to read. She waited nervously as his eyes carefully scanned the page.

 

When he finished, he looked between her and the page only once before wrapping her in his arms again.

 

“Oh, Merlin,” he said gently. “You could have told me.”

 

She choked out a laugh that sounded more like a cry and mumbled wetly into Gaius’ dusty robes, “I’m a girl.”

 

Gaius only squeezed her tighter. “Okay.”


End file.
